Alpha Rising

by G. L. Douglas

  Kaz said, “My insides tell me it’s around Christmas. Doesn’t it seem like it should be Christmas?”

  G.R. rubbed his belly. “Ho, ho, ho.”

  Kaz ignored him and asked the others, “If you could have anything you want for Christmas, what would it be?”

  Lynch laughed. “Three more wishes.”

  “That’s a boring old one,” G.R. complained before offering, “I’m an old-fashioned guy. A conformer bed, popcorn, and plasma video with voice-remote for me.”

  “Security,” Deni said. “I hate indefinite things.”

  “A safe landing at Dura,” Bach said.

  Star leaned over and asked Bach, “What is … Christmas?”

  He shook his head and smiled, again reminded of her alien status in a group of earthlings. “Christmas…,” he replied, gesturing with his hands as if talking to a student, “well, it depends on your beliefs. It began as a celebration of the birth of the Creator’s son. The Son was given gifts, so people give each other gifts.”

  “Our Creator has a son? Does his son live on Earth?”

  “He did once, but not anymore. He sacrificed himself for the deliverance of mankind, then returned to his Father, our Father, in heaven.”

  “Where’s heaven?”

  “It’s—” Bach started to reply, but Lynch cut him off.

  “Let me explain it,” he said. “It’s not a place on a map. Heaven is the Creator’s dwelling place from where mankind and all good things have come. It’s not tangible to mortals. Heaven and the Creator’s energy encompass the infinite bounds of space.”

  Bach said, “Star, it’s where the tunnel of light originates … where our Creator lives. Our hope and eternal home.”

  Lynch continued in his warm, southern drawl. “Now, back to Christmas. Over time it’s lost its meanin’ and people turned it into a commercial event.”

  G.R. smirked. “Yeah, everyone gives each other presents they don’t want, and then they all complain. Only part I like is gettin’ holiday time off from work.”

  Kaz rolled her eyes. “Oh, G.R., it’s not that bad. Think of all the happy kids and Santa riding in a sleigh drawn by those cute, flying reindeer.”

  “And the one with the flashing red nose.” Lynch laughed. “Hey, Bach, on the subject of animals and people, y’all sure picked up a great selection.”

  Bach let out a sigh. “It’s been a challenge getting ’em all aboard.”

  Star nodded. “While in the animals’ module a while ago, securing Shushan’s sea life, I had an interesting experience with two of the larger mammals. They were friendly, in a human-like way, and seemed to enjoy my attention. Even responded affectionately to my touch.”

  “Those are Dolphins,” Deni replied. “At one time, long ago, they were human species.”

  Bach stopped what he was doing with a shout, “What?”

  “Dolphins,” Deni offered, “are an example of reverse evolution. With the shortage of land on Ashkelon, long before population control became mandatory, people had no choice but to slowly adapt to living in the water.”

  Kaz added, “Nowhere else to go, it became a way of life.”

  Deni continued, “As time went on, living in and under the water, they eventually evolved into sea dwellers.”

  Bach said, “You’re saying dolphins were once human, and not the other way around as some believe?”

  “Pretty much bears out the theory,” Lynch said. “Think about it—little babies are birthed under water, they surface for air, and the cycle begins. But it didn’t happen overnight, now. It took eons of evolvin’.”

  “Give me a minute to digest that,” Bach said.

  G.R. added, “Well, in my opinion it’s perfectly logical, and the planet’s history and stories handed down through the generations bear witness to what could be called a reverse evolution process. You know, even with all my biology training, I never did buy into the man-from-microscopic-organism thing.”

  “Bach and I discussed something similar. That perhaps the apes began as man, but reverse evolved to adapt to their toxic environment.” Star said. “They’re certainly an interesting combination of animal and man.”

  “I love pondering unexplainable scientific oddities,” G.R. said.

  “Oddities are one thing, but I really hate that the mermaid was experimentally made,” Bach said.

  “And Varuna probably hates being a mermaid,” Deni said. “Can you imagine how lonely she is, caught in the middle?”

  “Varuna? Beautiful name.” Bach shook his head. “Why can’t man leave well enough alone? First a pegasus, then a mermaid.”

  Kaz’s eyes enlarged almost twice the size. “You saw a pegasus?”

  “As beautiful as you would imagine.”

  “Is it in the animals’ module?”

  “No. There was just one, a result of nuclear testing and experimentation on Troas.”

  Lynch shifted in his seat. “I’m beginnin’ to understand this ark-like mission. We may be the only ones left who’re safe.”

  *****

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  With a precious cargo of Arkmates, Arkriders, and animals, Bach carefully allocated the small amount of fuel and burned only the bare minimum as they headed to planet Jenesis.

  Star spent a little time trying to reconcile the roster her father had put aboard, then left it at a mid-ship workstation and headed back to the cockpit. “I can’t figure out why my dad made that roster,” she stated. “There’s no one else to pick up, but we still have five empty letters—a, e, p, q, and x, and there are three duplicates—s, t, and y.”

  Kaz looked it over. “So whose name would start with a q or x anyway?”

  “Maybe you picked up a few wrong ones,” G.R. said.

  Star moaned, “Oh, don’t say that. Our searches were challenging, but everyone had the sign.”

  “Why don’t you just forget it?” he added. “Too late to do anything about it.”

  Lynch sauntered to Kaz’s side and plucked the roster from her hands. “Here, lemme see that.” He studied it for a minute then drawled, “Maybe Rooks?”

  “No,” Bach stated. “I don’t think there are Rooks on board. I just don’t have that feeling.”

  Star suddenly cried out, “Bach! Gravity lensing detector picked up an occurrence!”

  Bach zeroed in on warnings flashing on the viewpanel and yelled, “Oh, God!” at the same time.

  Deni, Lynch, Kaz, and G.R. rushed to the cockpit and pressed in behind Bach and Star to see what they were looking at.

  “The spectrometer’s showing a change in the galaxy’s composition,” Bach announced. “All space matter is collapsing toward our Ark, not just the planets, but distant stars as well.” He nervously pointed to the panel. “Look. The images are steadily growing larger with a trajectory straight toward our ship.”

  Star’s voice wavered. “My father predicted something like this.”

  “What are you saying?” Lynch shouted. “How could he know this was coming?”

  “Our entire galaxy has been on the verge of instability for two generations. He said it was inevitable that one day an extraordinary external disturbance would be the catalyst that tipped the zone into collapse—precipitate an implosion that creates a black hole that consumes all. Zarephath’s exploding must have triggered it.”

  Lynch grumbled, paced, and looked from window to window. “Nothin’ gets out of a black hole—not even light. We’ll disintegrate into atoms.”

  Kaz cried out, “God, help us,” and clasped her hands under her chin, whispering a prayer.

  Nobody spoke for a time as second by second all matter in the surrounding galaxies zoomed toward the helpless ship. They would soon be surrounded and consumed along with all matter contained in this galaxy in space.

  Deni stepped over the bench seat and sat next to Bach to get a better look at his viewpanel. “Doesn’t seem possible … watching a black hole form.”

  “Worse, we’re heading into it,” said G.R.
<
br />   Bach stared fixedly at the approaching cosmological bodies, then grabbed a handheld device. “This is a crazy idea, but I’m going to monitor the light of an adjacent galaxy to see how it’s being deflected so I can calculate where the mass is being collapsed.”

  Deni watched over his shoulder. “Doesn’t sound crazy to me.”

  Kaz’s voice cracked. “Bach, what’s going to happen to us? If the planets are destructing, that means Jenesis is gone!”

  He turned to speak, his face more determined than they’d ever seen. “I’m remembering theories of Hawking and Penrose, and there may be a way to survive.” He swung around and handed the portable computer with downloaded data to Lynch. “Compute the intersection point and time of collision.”

  Lynch sat nearby with the computer in his lap. “Intersection point,” he mumbled, typing feverishly.

  “Deni, Kaz, and G.R.,” Bach ordered, “shut off all lights and unnecessary equipment. We’re going to need all the power we can get.” He turned on warning systems and safety devices in the modules while the crewmates hurried to complete their tasks.

  Lynch watched the computer screen, his body as tense as a cat’s when it stalks its prey. When the first results appeared, he let out a whistle that carried through the cabin. “This thing is huge. One hour, seventeen minutes to Doomsday.”

  “The intersection point!” Bach said impatiently. “I need the predicted point of impact.”

  “Barely ten thousand miles away,” Lynch replied. “Not far enough by a light year for the explosion to miss us, or the resulting black hole not to suck us in like a piece of scrap metal pulled by a giant magnet.”

  “We’re going to beat this, and everyone will help!” Bach left no room for debate. “Lynch, calculate the precise reading, log it into navigation, then work with Star to minimize the power consumption of less critical systems. We’ll need every last joule of energy to help control our destiny.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “Deni, you, G.R., and Kaz will manually control the directional thrusters.” He pointed to four viewscreen touchpads on the control panel. Each showed what looked like a small digital spacecraft with directional arrows on it. “Here. These controls guide the Ark up, down, left, and right.”

  “What are we doing with the thrusters?” G.R. asked.

  “You’re navigating.” Bach pecked like a madman on his touchpad. “We’re going through the maw of the black hole.”

  Kaz gasped. “What? Through the opening?”

  Bach’s eyes stayed riveted to images on a laser panel. He spoke without looking up. “Exactly one hour before impact, there’ll be enough mass in the event horizon around us to produce a singularity. That’s where nothing can escape its boundaries. Yet a conglomeration this size will not have congealed enough to produce a black hole in the purest sense. In that state, we should, if I interpret Hawking and Penrose correctly, and if their theories were right, find space/time so warped that the forces around us will thrust us beyond the singularity into another dimension—like passing through an instantaneous worm hole before the final galaxial collapse.”

  “I’m not sure we should do this,” G.R. warned.

  Bach slapped his hand on the padded bench. “Sit here, G.R.”

  Deni and Kaz automatically followed.

  Lynch buckled in at Star’s side.

  Now Bach had the early image of the accretion disk preceding the event horizon in focus on the controller panels. “Everyone keep your eyes dead-center on the disk.” He placed Kaz’s right hand on a thruster touchpad. If we’re high, Kaz, you bring us down. He pointed to the touch control in front of G.R. “If we’re low, G.R., you bring us up.”

  Deni already had her hands on her controllers. “Bearing left or right, that’s me,” she said.

  “I’ll monitor sound speed in the space plasma,” Bach added.

  G.R. suddenly stood, scooted around Kaz and sat on her other side. “Trade spots with me. I’m left-handed.”

  Her voice raised an octave. “Now I’m low and you’re high?”

  Bach shook his finger at the touchpad images. “The arrow shows the direction it controls, Kaz. If we’re low, you’ll bring us up.” His voice grew rushed and forceful. “I want total focus on those navigation screens, and faultless thruster control.” He checked his monitoring device then added, “If we plan it right, we’ll slide through before the deadly action begins.”

  “Adjust your backrests and buckle in tight,” Deni said.

  In a stress-driven final attempt at humor, G.R. grumbled, “We’re on the off-ramp to the Twilight Zone.”

  “Get ready!” Bach commanded.

  Within seconds, a comet glanced off the Ark’s trailing edge, turning it ninety degrees. As the navigators fought to right their course, the ship entered a swirling sheet of gas and dust and everything outside went black. Then came a head-numbing noise accompanied by a fist-sized ball of fire that materialized under the flight deck and rolled through the cabin leaving a blackened trail behind. Smoke alarms blared and onboard sprinklers rained down on the fireball. The big ship pitched and yawed like the last car on a roller coaster.

  Beyond the cockpit windows raged what looked like a star war orchestrated by a pyrotechnic madman. Hundreds of incendiary planetary fragments ripped through space dragging flaming silvery tails behind them. Souls of the faithful returning to heaven, flashed through Bach’s mind as a white-hot fireball sped toward the ship. Just before impact it veered left and disappeared. “Don’t blink, and be exact with thrust correction.” That was his final instruction to the others.

  The Ark, now beyond the accretion disk and within the event horizon, hurtled inescapably toward the maw.

  *****

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Bach touched his face with both hands. His fingers felt icy cold against his cheeks. Am I dead or alive? He glanced around the cockpit feeling like he’d awakened from a drugged sleep. The others, slumped on the padded bench as if they’d napped there, stirred.

  Star rubbed her eyes and looked through the windows into the black void of deep space. “Where are we?” she muttered. Wondering if the ship’s systems were functional, she switched on the electro-brain. It booted up with a whir and data refreshed on a monitor. She moved in close and studied the details. “We’ve come through the worm hole with our ship’s settings exactly as we had them,” she announced. “We’re on minimal power.”

  Bach wiped his hand across a data panel as if trying to clear away something he didn’t like. “The Milky Way is gone,” he said without emotion.

  Kaz moved to his side on the bench. “Gone?”

  Star pointed to her panel. “Your solar system, our zones, and all other astral markers in the galaxy were consumed by the black hole.”

  Head bowed, Kaz whispered, “Oh, please, please tell me Earth is there.”

  “There are no remnants of your solar system,” Star replied.

  Lynch, Deni, and G.R. unharnessed themselves and gathered in stunned silence.

  Trembling, Kaz reached for Lynch. “Earth is gone,” she muttered. “My family … my cats.”

  He helped her from the bench and held her close. “We’ve all lost loved ones and everything else, honey. It’s impossible to understand that we’ll never go home again.”

  Deni and G.R. silently watched incoming scans of dormant space on the electrobrain. Overwhelmed, G.R. wrapped his arms around her and struggled to speak. “God pushed the big button and brought down the whole world.”

  “Why were we spared?” she asked.

  Bach noticed Star fighting back tears. He slid around the bench to her side and they reached for each other at the same time.

  As minutes passed, each of the Arkmates grappled with the tragedy in his or her own way.

  Deni was first to exchange despair for resolve. She stretched her long legs with a walk to aft ship and announced, “The passengers must be terrified, I’m going to check on them.”

  All the idle gadgetry and inoperative a
dvanced technology in the cockpit turned Bach’s thoughts back to age five when he pretended to fly his cardboard-box spaceship to distant realms known only to him. I wish it could be that easy now.

  Star looked out at the blackness. “What can we do?”

  He pointed to the fuel indicator. “We don’t have enough fuel to go anywhere anyway.”

  Star wrote in the journal, then voice-recorded events. Later, she looked up and saw something strange on the cockpit windows—a powdery substance, rain-like in appearance, coating the convex panes.

  Bach saw it at almost the same time and stood straight up. He touched the window from the inside. “What the heck?”

  G.R. watched the silvery powder accumulate on a porthole, then got up for a closer look. “Meteor dust or cosmic particles?”

  Lynch checked it out. “Could be we’re driftin’ through a cloud of somethin’.”

  Kaz latched onto Lynch. “We’re gonna die. First we end up in a place like hell,” she choked back tears, “now we’re suspended in space. I’m sick of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Actually, it’s the wrong place at the right time,” G.R. said. “If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing happens.”

  “Oh, be quiet!” she snipped through sobs.

  Lynch cradled her head and stroked her disheveled hair. “Stay strong, honey.” His own nerves on edge, he yelled at Bach, “What went wrong in carrying out the Creator’s mission and getting us back to Jenesis?”

  “I never had instructions to go back there.”

  The thick vein of anger divided Lynch’s forehead. “Well, why didn’t you get all the instructions?”

  “I followed the instructions exactly as they were given,” he snapped back. “I assumed we’d return to Jenesis, the Creator didn’t reveal it.”

  G.R. sat in a hammock, fretfully tapping his feet on the floor. “Lost in space, endured the impossible, black hole, lost in space.”

  “Knock it off,” Bach said. “If we’d made it to Jenesis we’d be dead now. Jenesis is gone.” He looked out. “This is part of the Creator’s plan.”